The Emporer's Dream
by Rangor
Summary: The blue Emporer awakes after a disturbing dream...


He awoke with a start, again. He quickly realized that what had just happened to him wasn't real, but a nightmare. It felt very real, very solid as it happened, but even now, the memories of his dream were fading.   
  
He got out of his bed and turned his thoughts to the business of the day. He needed to arrange a meeting with Lord Darish and Ambassador D'Vinn to find the latest on where the dark elves stand. D'Vinn kept promising an army of blue skinned elves to help finally win the war with the wood elves. When the backup army arrived, the combined might of the Blue Army would run the elves from the trees in Kelethin.   
  
He knew the outcome of the meeting. There are a few more layers of blue tape to get through, but his contacts in Neriak are confident that the problems will be sorted out in just a few more days. We just need to be patient.   
  
In response, Darish would threaten to tear D'Vinn's throat out if they did not hurry. Crush's emissaries would just stand in the background, looking imposing, but not actually achieving anything.   
  
Crush sent for a messenger to bring the others to the meeting. While waiting, he tried to remember his dream. It always went this way. He constantly suffered from nightmares, which he supposed came from running an empire. But the dream was always the same. He paused, and a fragment of memory came back.   
  
There was... a band of fighters... They stormed the castle...   
  
The dream was always the same, true, but the faces and races were different. Wood elves, dwarves, iksars, even gnomes. He ignored the dream, and called again for his messenger. He did not like to be kept waiting, and would make sure the foolish pawn who turned up would suffer.   
  
A small, pitiful creature ran and cowered before him, bringing bad news. All around Crushbone, his horde of orcish warriors were being slaughtered by a number of mercenaries.   
  
Well, no matter. There were always more where they came from. Let the weak be killed. If a ragged band of elves can beat them, they deserve to die. Still, there was a tradition to be upheld. The bearers of bad news must be punished. Kill the messenger, as the old saying went. The pawn was dragged away by two centurions. He did not know what happened to them, nor did he care.   
  
Bearers of good news, however, got to pick a slave from the pit and have an hour to do what they wish. Many torture implements were used in this tradition, and this is the reason many orcs decide to become runners.   
  
A noise from outside his window disturbed him from his thoughts. He looked, and saw six creatures laying waste to the guards outside his fort. Still, they would be in for a surprise when they encounter his emissaries inside.   
  
That D'Vinn has the unfortunate habit of not being around all the time, as if he had better things to do. If it weren't for the fact that he needed the dark elf for his army, Crush would have rewarded a few runners by letting them torture D'Vinn, while he watched.   
  
Once again, his attention was brought back to reality by the noise of fighting. They seemed to have gotten past the front gates, and were engaging the orcs inside the fort. A voice shouted out that they were taking the throne room.   
  
Despite himself, Cornelius J. Crush, emperor of Crushbone and all the blue orcs on Faydwer, began to get nervous. He could see flashes of light coming up the stairway, and hear weapons hitting weapons. Most of the grunts of pain were orcish voices. That did not bode well for him.   
  
Crush could feel the nervousness turn into rage. How dare they? How dare they come to his fort, kill his guards? He could feel the anger burning. As the intruders came up the stairs, he launched himself at them. Six against one were unfair odds, but he didn't feel like giving them a chance. He would teach them what a true orc was capable of.   
  
A dwarf came up first, and received the bulk of Crush landing on him. He wasn't called Crush for nothing. The stunned dwarf just lay there while his companions surrounded them. Crush lay into the stricken dwarf, ignoring the rest.   
  
This dwarf had obviously not fully recovered from fighting the guards, and went down fast, before his cleric friend had even finished casting her healing spell. The cleric was the next target. If she couldn't heal the others, then the fight would go faster.   
  
While he was pounding on her, a gnome and a high elf both cast fire-based spells on him. He could feel his skin burning, but he concentrated on the cleric.   
  
She was getting weaker, he could feel it, but so was he. She managed to get an occasional healing spell on herself, but he managed to interrupt most of her casting.   
  
The healer went down, but Crush knew he was close to defeat himself. The best course of action would be to try to escape, and seek revenge on these fools and D'Vinn for not being around when he was needed.   
  
Unfortunately, it was too little, too late. Crush could feel his energy fading, hear the cheering of the mercenaries around him, and he blacked out.   
  
He awoke with a start, again. He quickly realized that what had just happened to him wasn't real, but a nightmare. It felt very real, very solid as it happened, but even now, the memories of his dream were fading.   
  
He got out of his bed and turned his thoughts to the business of the day. He needed to arrange a meeting with Lord Darish and Ambassador D'Vinn to find the latest on where the dark elves stand... 


End file.
